


Moonbright

by fauxframe



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fred’s alive bc kiss my ass, M/M, Veela, Veela Draco Malfoy, kiiiinda, strip club
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 09:03:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17363051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fauxframe/pseuds/fauxframe
Summary: Harry Potter hadn't heard any word about Draco Malfoy since he graduated from Hogwarts. Truth be told, he expected to maybe encounter him getting arrested. Way down on the list of potential ways to meet him again was running into him at a veela strip club, but it happened, and while being a professional Seeker is fun, it doesn't have a lot of mystery. Harry ends up trying to figure out how Malfoy possibly came to be the owner of such a place, how he became so flirty, and how he became a veela at all.Soon enough, Harry finds himself fully in the culture of Moonbright, and constantly being around Draco Malfoy, all allure and blonde hair and sparkly eyes, is starting to make him reevaluate his opinion. His friends are divided on whether this is genuine attraction or veela allure side effect, but Harry is determined to get to the bottom of it. And the only way to do that is hang around Draco more.Right?





	Moonbright

**Author's Note:**

> Draco's a veela who owns a veela club. It's super classy.
> 
> Harry's a professional quidditch player who comes to the club. He's super not classy.

George and Fred really were incredibly convincing, Harry realized suddenly as he withdrew over twenty five galleons in sickles and tucked the sack away. A part of him was still worried about the press snapping a picture of him inside Moonbright. A part of him was just embarrassed to be going to such a place anyway. But then again, there really weren’t places like Moonbright. It had sprung up overnight, a dark building with lights put up in the windows to block the inside. The brick outside had been painted black, _moonbright_ had been painted on the side in shiny silver paint, and word had spread like wildfire.

Whispers around the pitch during practice talked about a classy lounge, a bar with all the best drinks, staffed entirely by veela. Veela bartenders, dancers, and while touching was absolutely prohibited on pain of fireball to the crotch and permanent banning, you could _look_ all you wanted. Harry was admittedly intrigued, but he had been stalked by the press for long enough to know that him even glancing at it in passing would end up on the front page.

So when Fred and George turned up and revealed that Moonbright offered select floo access for their clients who wished to remain discreet, and they had secured a ticket for the night of Harry’s twenty second birthday, he accepted.

They had laid out the whole system: the floo required a password, changed nightly. On the night in question, their ticket would reveal the password, they would come through, they would be checked just like anyone entering through the door, and then allowed into the main area once it was confirmed they didn’t have anything dangerous on them – to either the employees, or the reputations of the clients. Cameras were strictly forbidden. Nothing would happen. Anyone who saw Harry in there would be in there as well, and it was mutually assured destruction.

So Harry agreed.

“You have to make sure you go in there with exactly how much you want to spend.” Fred coached him before they sent him into Gringotts. “Because you’re going to be throwing everything you have at the veela. I’ve heard of guys walking in thinking they’ll spend a few galleons, and going home with nothing. It makes you crazy.”

Harry thought he sounded a little too enthused about that, but an hour later he was standing in front of the floo in the back of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. “I don’t know about this.”

“Do it.” Fred repeated immediately.

“You can’t chicken out now.”

Harry took a deep breath and looked at the ticket, then threw in the powder and stepped in. “Moonbright, Diagon Alley – Allure!” He stumbled out a moment later, into the arms of a beautiful, pale, dark haired woman.

“Woah!” She steadied him with a smile. “Alright?”

“I- er- yes.” He said shortly before Fred and George came through, one after the other. “You aren’t- blonde.”

“I’m not a veela, sweetmeat.” Her next smile contained fangs. “I’m a vampire. I check to make sure you’re not carrying contraband – cameras, anything to take notes, drugs, outside food or drink, anything but money, essentially.” Her face got hard, and suddenly Harry felt lightheaded as she stared him. “So _are you?”_

“No!” They gasped immediately, then sighed as she smiled and relaxed.

“Super duper! Sign here and go on through.” She let them sign the waivers, then opened the door to the main room.

Harry nodded and drifted through, gasping when he saw the inside.

Dark, lit lowly by string lights and bolted down lamps, it was full of low couches and armchairs, plush and dark in circles around lit platforms, each one with one or two dancing veela in it, wearing filmy black negligee-looking dresses or snug black pants and a lingerie top.  There was a bar across the back, the longest side of the building, and Harry could pick out several gorgeous blondes pouring drinks out of shiny silver shakers and flirting.

Fred and George immediately flung themselves down in front of a curvy woman, wearing a pair of black ripped jeans and a lacy bra, pushing her hands back through her hair and gently swaying to the music, barefoot on her stage. George leaned forward and pressed his hand against the invisible magical barrier, sighing as the woman laughed at him. “What happened to your ear?” She turned slowly, shimmying down to wink at him.

“I got attacked by death eaters when I was on a rescue mission with Harry Potter!” He told her immediately, grinning when she gasped and cooed over how brave he was.

Harry decided to head for the bar. He didn’t exactly need people fawning over him. Being Harry Potter was enough, being a professional Seeker was enough. The veela were pretty, of course, but he wasn’t sure this was going to get to him the same way it got to Fred or George.

The Draco Malfoy turned around, smirking at the man visibly swooning in front of him as he poured the man’s drink into a tall glass, and Harry’s night went from awkward to excellent. 

“Malfoy?”

Draco lifted a single finger, smiling at the man until he pushed over what even Harry could tell was far more than what that drink cost. Draco slid it into the drawer underneath the bar before turning to Harry. “What can I get you?”

“It’s me.” He said immediately, sinking down onto the plush barstool. “Harry Potter!”

“I know who you are, Harry.” Draco smiled at him, and Harry felt himself melt. “I just figured you’d want a drink. Since you’re at the bar.”

“Oh- uh, sure. Firewhiskey.”

“One galleon.”

Harry gave him two, but couldn’t resist ribbing as Malfoy poured. “Better be good firewhiskey for a whole galleon.”

“Part of the price is for the view.” Draco slid his drink across the bar, sinking down onto his elbows. “Never thought I’d see you in my fine establishment.”

“You own Moonbright?” He asked in shock.

“Mhm.”

“Wow… so… since when have you been a…”

“Veela? That happened when I was eighteen.”

“What? What made it happen?” Harry found himself leaning closer, so they were scant inches apart when Draco turned to him and smirked.

“I lost my virginity.”

Harry stared at him, not truly registering Draco’s face as it was, but imagining him clinging to a pillow, writhing in pleasure. “You- what?”

“Apparently I had some dormant traits, and getting pounded into a bed brought them out.” He sighed at the memory. “It was… _orgasmic_.”

Harry squeezed his glass, choking as his cock abruptly rose to half-mast. “Oh. Is that how veela normally…”

“It can be. Wizards with veela heritage can come into it at birth, or sometimes it can be triggered later.”

“Like you.”

“Like me.”

“By getting fucked?” He whispered desperately, downing the last of his whiskey and holding the glass out for more.

“I actually don’t know if it was that so much the actual act of having sex, or just… me getting over the idea of marrying some pureblood girl, and accepting that what I really wanted was a man to _throw me down and have his way with me_.” Draco’s eyes were boring into him, replacing every ounce of sense and calm with a desperate fire for him.

Harry felt himself breaking out into a sweat, scrambling to clutch at the bar as he was suddenly, painfully hard. “I’ll throw you down and have my way with you.” He promised immediately, voice low. “I’ll do anything you want, Draco, please, please fucking let me.”

“I know you will, sweetheart.” He watched as Draco refilled his glass, trembling with want. “Another galleon, please.”

He immediately dumped out the sack. “Keep ‘em coming.”

Draco stroked his hand as he collected the cash, and Harry almost came in his pants. He resolved then and there not to leave the bar until Draco did.

The rest of the night was a blur of blondes and alcohol. Many, many drinks in, Harry vaguely recalled giving Draco his address, begging him to come home with him, near tears when Draco kindly promised that he would’ve, really, but he had to work. He remembered telling Draco to come over whenever he wanted. He had a sneaking suspicion he had spent the last hour repeatedly proposing marriage to him. Without trying to convince the wizards to leave, at four am, the club simply… closed. The veela dancers vanished from their little stages, Draco waved a hand to throw up an opaque barrier between the bar and the main area, and the vampire ladies who had been checking bags came out to chase out the red-faced, erect men who were still throwing their money at the stages and begging the veela to come back up and talk to them.

Fred and George caught up with him right before they stumbled through the floo, Harry grinning and giving them a thumbs up before he went home, ripped off his clothes, and frantically jerked off to the thought of grabbing a handful of blonde hair, throwing Draco down over the bar, and fucking him until he begged.

* * *

Harry woke around midday, hungover and extremely intrigued. He stumbled to the fridge and downed the hangover potion he kept for emergencies, made himself the greasiest breakfast/lunch he could think of, and immediately started wondering about Draco.

How had the prissiest pureblood at Hogwarts become the owner of a club based around sex-crazed men? Since when would he flirt with Harry, even for obscene amounts of money?

Had he really been a virgin until he was eighteen?

Harry leaned back in his chair, sighing as the blood started to flow south again. He couldn’t get the image of Draco Malfoy being repressed, desperate for it, aching for someone to come along and take him, then coming out the other side of it a flirty, sexy, bartending veela out of his mind.

He checked the clock. Bar had closed at four, it was now noon. Not exactly prime business hours, but he had to find out more.

First he tried the floo again, but it was closed. He tried to apparate in, but they clearly had wards up against that.

And that’s how Harry Potter ended up banging on the club door at one in the afternoon. He had showered, put on his nice shirt and jeans, wrapped himself in the robes with no holes or singe marks, and started knocking. After a couple moments, a female veela ripped open the door. She was wearing a normal Holyhead Harpies t-shirt and jeans, hair pulled up in a loose bun. Her allure was dialed way down, she had a wedding ring on her finger, and she looked at Harry like someone had left dung on her doorstep. “Let me guess. You’re in love with one of the dancers-“

“What? No! I need to talk to Malfoy.” He was squinting at her, trying to figure out if she had been there last night, seen him make a fool of himself.

“Draco? What the hell for?” She frowned. “You’re not trying to sue us, are you?”

“What? No! I want- I want to-. Tell him… this is an investment opportunity!”

She frowned and glanced up. “Wait right here.”

He nodded as she slammed the door in his face. Three minutes later, Draco ripped the door open. He had on nice robes, hair slightly mussed and a pinched look on his face.

“You look tired.” He blurted immediately.

“I went to bed five hours ago, that’s why.” Draco snarled immediately. “Lauren mentioned you wanted to invest here?”

“Er- yeah.”

“Potter, not to step on your agent’s toes, but I’m going to play PR rep for a moment and tell you that’s a terrible idea.”

“I- why? I’ve invested in companies before.”

“Yeah, like the Weasleys’ joke shop, idiot. You got to give an adorable speech about how laughter got you through the war, and everyone got to bring their kids around and have a nice time and talk about how wonderful and generous you are. Moonbright isn’t exactly what you’d call family-friendly. How are people supposed to explain to their kids that Harry Potter likes to get his rocks off by begging male veela to marry him? I can barely explain it to myself!”

Harry flushed. He had been hoping the proposals had been a dream. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be, that’s the point of the place. See, how are you going to invest here if you can’t even tolerate the fact that you came here? You’re too much of a Gryffindor to-”

“Malfoy, I’m willing to give you money. Are you going to give me the tour or not?” Harry said firmly, using his contract negotiation voice. Draco blinked at him, then opened the door fully.

“This is the receiving area for the main door. Blank waivers, quills, and this is where two of our guards sit – we use female vampires because they’re female, and therefore immune to veela allure, and vampires, so they can throw out anyone who causes trouble. Vampires also have a mild form of natural imperius effect, so they can compel the patron to admit to lying about bringing in a camera.” Draco walked him over to the stacks of papers. “They sign away their right to sue us in case of veela attack, allure overdose, anything.”

“Does that ever happen?”

“Allure overdose is just a reaction that lasts some hours after veela exposure, it’ll leave you feeling high, but it isn’t dangerous. Most people lose the effect as soon as they leave. The dancers are behind the magical barrier, so they couldn’t attack anyone, and we would never hurt anyone who followed the rules. We once had a patron leap over the bar, and the girl veela-d out and threw him back over, but that’s all that’s happened.” Draco put the contracts back on the shelf. “They dump them in this box, I file them so if we need them again we can pull them up. You saw the private receiving area last night?”

Harry nodded. “Why don’t you allow that for everyone? So people don’t have to… walk in?”

“First of all, I don’t care if a private investigator catches someone cheating on his girlfriend. Second, floo congestion, exclusivity, and capacity. We’d have too many people coming in and not have time to check them all quickly enough.” Draco jerked his head toward the door. “Want to see the main area when it’s lit?”

Harry nodded and walked in the door. It was… fine. Nice, clean, classy. There were seven of the little stages, each one with a ring of furniture around it. Harry knew full well that eventually men just knelt at the base of each platform, but the thought counted. The base of the platform had an open gutter around it, where Harry had watched men drop their coins, rolling down into the black abyss. He assumed it was sorted and counted down below. “Why is everything bolted down?”

“We had a man pick up a lamp and try to use it to beat down the barrier. I had to jump across the bar and drag him out.” Draco rolled his eyes. “That was back when I worked bar every night.”

“You don’t usually?”

“No. Almost never. I did it last night because a patron got rude and the woman we had working freaked out and had to go lie down last night.” Draco leaned against the barrier with a smirk. “Then I stayed because you almost _cried_ when I tried to leave.”

Harry felt himself flush to the roots of his hair. “That’s exactly my point, you’re obviously… good at getting money.”

“My allure only works on men who are attracted to men. Some wizards don’t like discovering that new fact about themselves while they’re around their buddies for their stag. Violent incidents went down once I stopped working the bar.” Draco’s eyes seemed to be fixed on a point over Harry’s left shoulder.

“… I’d never met a male veela before you, but I knew. That I was into men, I mean.”

“Male veela are more rare, it’s a creature that’s attracted to men, and there are simply more women that fit that description than men. I believe there’s also genetic reasons why women become full blown veela more often, even with similar heritages and attractions.” He shrugged off the memories of working out front and continued, walking over to the bar. There were two women behind the bar, and the woman who had answered the door originally was sitting in front. “Hello, ladies. How are we doing, Lauren?”

“Excellent, we’re learning a lot.” Lauren smiled at the women, who beamed back. “Margaret, Silvia, get a good look at Draco now, because from here on out every time you come for your shift, he’ll be in his office.”

“You two can always pop right in if you need anything, anything at all. Extra bartending lessons, patron making you uncomfortable, wanting to marry a patron if you’re like Lauren, I’ve literally seen it all.” He promised, giving them a smile. “The veela in this city are my highest priority. Even above money. And trust me, I love money.” They all laughed. “So, ladies, how about a little test?”

“Alright.” The bartender with longer hair and bigger eyes stepped forward, sweet and waifish.

“Sylvia. Let’s say a man comes up to you, dumps a bag containing twenty galleons on the bar, and asks you to marry him.”

“I take the money and say thank you, call him sweet, ask him what he wants to drink.”

“Not quite. Usually the men will riot if you take that much money before you have them near tears. They start to get entitled. You want them begging. Take as much as the drink costs, leave the rest alone.”

Sylvia nodded thoughtfully.

“Alright! Margaret. Same situation, except the man in question is Harry Potter himself. How do you react?”

Harry had been happily watching the quartet of pretty veela laugh and smile, but he jerked and blushed hard, waving a hand. “… It’s been known to happen.” He admitted, beaming as Margaret and Lauren giggled.

“I assume I’m supposed to say the same thing, but I would absolutely take him up on it.” They all giggled before Margaret winked. “Kidding. Sorry, Mr. Potter.”

“No offense taken. You can do way better than me.” He beamed when Draco cracked him a smile, standing back up and taking his arm. “Bye now!”

“We decided on the silver and black color scheme for the club – black furniture, black wood, silver fixtures and barware. Silver veela, black uniforms. The veela can wear whatever they want, really. Veela are seductive whether they’re naked or under robes, but sometimes the girls will come out fully dressed and imply they’ll remove more if men give more. And sometimes you just want to be fawned over in your lingerie, you know? I do demand it doesn’t show more than a swimsuit, but they can wear clothes if they like.” Draco explained, coming along the side of the bar to get behind it, then lead Harry through the door behind the bar. It opened to a stairwell, still painted black, and Draco walked down it without bothering to confirm Harry was coming.

The sublevel was like a whole nother world.

The first room they entered was the break room – a little kitchenette, a platter of pastries and sandwiches set out. There were big couches and chairs in light colors, with blankets spread around. There were four twin beds toward the back of the room, pillows and blankets. A line of vanities were against the far wall, and seven huge pillars divided the room.

“There’s a small kitchen for them to use, but we try to keep premade things stocked up so they don’t have to waste time. The dancers work a more complicated shift than the bartenders. There are two groups, opening group and closing group, one goes on at four pm, when we open, and gets off at nine pm. The other comes on at nine and goes off at four am. They’re paid for an hour prior to and following that, because they have to come in, get dressed, put on makeup, and be ready to go on at exactly four. Then after they get off, they can shower and change, clean up a little, and then go. Within each of those groups, there’s two groups, first group and second group. First group goes up for an hour, then we replace them with the second group, switch back and forth. It keeps the girls from getting tired, gives them a place to relax, and they sometimes help me out with other things if they’re bored and I’m busy. Bartenders work the same shift overall, but they work the shift through, negotiating their breaks with one another and making sure the bar isn’t empty. Their bookend hours are spent getting ready and getting the bar ready, or cleaning it up.” Draco pointed toward a door past the beds. “Shower room down there.”

“Wow. That’s- wow. You do take really good care of them.”

“I’m one of them, Potter. Who do you think danced when we were still hiring?”

Harry felt like he had been punched in the face. He was immediately furious with himself that he hadn’t been the first person in line, rushing in to press his face against the magical barrier and beg Draco Malfoy to take his pants off for galleons. “I- you?”

“Mhm.”

“And you- liked it?”

“All veela like it. Love being fawned over, begged for, love men throwing gifts at us. It’s instinctual. I’m just using our natural talents and pleasures to make money.”

Draco walked over to one of the pillars, waving a hand. A door appeared, and he opened it, stepping inside the small, dark closet and pulling Harry in after him.

Oh, this was it. Go time. He _knew_ Draco wanted him. Had probably wanted him since school. Had probably curled up in his bed, touched himself to the idea of Harry fucking him senseless while the other Slytherins slept around him. “Fuck _yes_ , gorgeous.” He stepped forward, spinning the blonde around to face him and slamming him up against the wall, hooking his hands under Draco’s thighs to pull him up to crotch level, giving his perky little ass a squeeze as he started grinding and buried his face in Draco’s neck. Draco made an adorable little squeal, and it only drove Harry on harder. “I’m going to make you come until you pass out, I’m going to show you what I could’ve done to you under the bleachers after I fucking smoked you at Quidditch- would’ve made you fucking scream for me, hell yes, _god_.” He groaned as he slipped his hands under the silky black robe, discovering with a rush of blood to his cock that Draco was absolutely nude under it. Draco made a choked noise as Harry viciously sucked a hicky into his neck, hands flying to Harry’s mop of dark hair. “Feel free to pull it, baby, I don’t mind.” He growled out, working his hips and kneading Draco’s soft, bouncy rear, fingers already going for his hole.

“I- you- what the hell are you _doing?!”_  Draco shrieked abruptly as Harry pushed a fingertip against his rim, struggling against him, yanking at his hair. “Potter! Let go of me right now! This is not a sexy makeout situation!”

“What the hell are we doing in a closet then, you _tease?”_  He demanded, pulling his face out of Draco’s neck to find that they were not, in fact, in a closet. They were on the main floor, on one of the dancer’s stages. Draco was pressed up against the magical barrier – the thing evidently functioned like an elevator to allow the veela to enter and exit without exposing themselves to the men. Lauren, Margaret, and Sylvia were staring at him in horror, and Draco had managed to get one leg down, enough to stamp on a small panel in the corner. Blessedly, the elevator sunk down out of their sight, and Draco stumbled out into the breakroom with one last whack to Harry’s chest.

“You freak! You brute! You vile, vile man! I should’ve known you only came back here to pull that kind of bullshit!” Draco was screaming at him, nails slowly sharpening into talons.

“I- I really didn’t, I just thought-“

“You thought the slutty veela was going to throw himself at you, because who wouldn’t want a piece of _Saint Potter_ , the raging pervert with a heart of gold!”

“Draco, I promise I never intended to-“

“I woke up for _this?_  Get out!”

Harry saw the flames starting to collect in Malfoy’s hand, and disapparated at top speed before he got singed.

An hour later, he was at Hermione and Ron’s, trying to write an apology letter to Draco.

“D’you think I should tell him I think he’s attractive?”

“Quick question. How in the _world_ could he not know that?” Hermione rolled her eyes. “I’m sure he doesn’t think you asked him to marry you and assaulted him in a closet because you think he’s ugly.”

Ron had an ice pack pressed to his forehead, still snickering. When Harry had first explained his situation, he had laughed so hard he fell out of the chair and brained himself on their kitchen table. “You made fun of his Quidditch skills while trying to nail him?” He asked once more for clarification, cackling once more when Harry nodded.

Hermione picked up the note, frowning and shaking her head. “No, don’t blame the allure.”

“But it was the allure.”

“The allure held a gun to your head and made you call Draco Malfoy baby? Really?” She asked mockingly.

“Hermione.” He groaned. “You don’t get what it’s like. Ron, tell her.”

“I’ve never asked a veela to marry me, or pushed one into a closet and _insulted her flying_ while trying to neck with her. So don’t blame the allure.”

“Fine!” He snapped, grabbing a new sheet and starting over. “Why are you so stuck on that one bit? It was just a little thing!”

“It’s just so _you_. You could never go a day without getting a little snarky with Malfoy. If he was good, you were better. You didn’t care what anyone else said, but Malfoy just had to know how many points you scored at quidditch, what a badass you were. I didn’t realize it’d stick through the allure, most guys just start crying and pleading, I remember.”

Harry frowned to himself, brushing that off and sending the note off with his owl. Of course it had been the allure.

* * *

Draco sipped his tea, snacking on his pastries and trying to calm down. He couldn’t go down and see anyone like this. He was still hot from the encounter with Potter earlier – flushed and squirming, allure burning out of him. The frantic creature inside of him was positively screaming. Why had he denied them both what they wanted, why had he thrown Harry out rather than pulling him to the floor and coming undone in his arms?

He collected the letter when an owl swooped in through the open window, sitting up sharply when he saw the return address.

He had already jerked off in his bed once since the incident, and the stirring that name brought indicated there might be a second one on the way. He tore the envelope open and read.

_Dear Draco,_

_I really am sorry about grabbing you like that. I should’ve asked what you were up to instead of assuming. I thought you were trying to put the moves on me, and I totally get it was just wishful thinking. I promise that if you let me come back for another meeting, I won’t do anything like that again._

_I really am interested in Moonbright. I think it’s a genius business plan, and I’m even more interested after seeing how well you treat your employees, and how dedicated you are to your business._

_I’d like to have a business meeting with you over dinner. Totally in public, plenty of witnesses if I go nutty._

_Sincerely,_

_Harry Potter_

Draco pulled his legs in, rereading the letter. Harry had called thinking Draco was flirting _wishful thinking_. Warmth spread through his chest, the most basic veela instincts preening at being complimented.

Harry Potter was loaded, Draco knew that perfectly well. Pro quidditch payed well, even if he hadn’t had a family fortune. He knew Harry donated to lots of causes – werewolf anti-stigma, needy children, that kind of thing. But he also invested in companies – Potter had significant stock in Weasleys’ joke shop, some in Honeydukes, places like that.

Nowhere like Moonbright.

Then again, there wasn’t much of anywhere like Moonbright.

Draco carefully tucked the note away, then wrote back.

_Potter – the floo password tonight is ethereal. Come in at three, before we let in patrons. I’ll tell the girls at the bar to let you back and have someone bring you down to my office._

Short, to the point, turning down dinner in a way that didn’t turn down the business opportunity. Draco didn’t need the press catching him and Potter out together in any capacity. Veela allure being legal was one matter, if the press found him using it on Potter, he’d be crucified by the Daily Prophet. And most witches in London.

With the clear image of some lovelorn witch sending him a howler in his mind, he went to take a long, cold shower before Harry arrived.

* * *

Draco barely glanced up when a short-haired veela named Cameron escorted him into his office. “Thank you, Cammie.”

She flashed him a thumbs up and left as Draco continued scribbling, ignoring Harry and mentally cataloging him. The quick glance had shown Harry was in business robes. That was a good sign. Draco, on the other hand, was in tight black jeans and a baggy t-shirt. He never wore robes when there were other employees around, wanting to look similar to the other veela. “One second, Potter.” He announced when the man started to fidget, signing the paper with a flourish and sending it out with the owl. “Now. How can I help you?”

Harry smiled happily at him and sunk down. “I wanted to apologize again for- uh, this afternoon.”

“It’s already forgotten.” Draco said immediately. It wasn’t, but whatever.

“Right. Good. So, what made you start Moonbright?”

Draco sat up straighter. He was obviously proud of his business. It was nice to see. “Well, it can be difficult for veela to find jobs they enjoy. Most jobs will require you tone down the allure, which is an uncomfortable feeling. If you didn’t, you would have to be only around females, so they were immune. Lots of times male bosses, coworkers, and customers will be unable to resist the allure. So you’d either be viciously cutting off the allure, which doesn’t feel good, or getting into trouble. You know the ministry has the veela department? They collect over _one hundred_ reports of sexual harassment every month. When I became a veela, I realized my options for making money were illicit activities, or getting married to some wealthy man, or being uncomfortable.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Harry said earnestly.

Draco paused. He had kind of been on a roll before Harry interrupted, but he found himself touched by Harry’s concern. “I wanted a way that made lots of money in little time, didn’t involve my safety being compromised, and let me enjoy my job. So I started dancing for private parties, then realized that if I could get other veela in on this, I could expand. I started talking to other veela about it, and Lauren and I became business partners. We got a few other veela in on it, talked to investors, and we’ve been frighteningly profitable.” Draco stood up, fetching some reports from his filing cabinet. “We hired enough to fully staff the club every night of the week, the veela make excellent salaries, we’ve not yet had a major incident.” He came and sat down, showing Harry the charts of their profits. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s great, Draco.”

“I meant about _investing_.”

“Oh.” He flushed, rubbing his face. “Yeah, I’d like to. I mean, there’s a lot of money to be made.”

“You won’t be able to come around the club during open hours anymore.”

“What? Why not?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Like I need the man who pays the bills trying to hump the bar and begging me to marry him? You don’t see how that would complicate our working relationship?”

“Oh.” Harry flushed. “No, that’s no problem. I won’t. I promise.”

Draco leaned back in the chair, watching him closely. Harry stared back. Draco was obviously dialing down the allure, but even without the magical attraction Draco was a beautiful man. “You do realize, of course, that the press is going to tear you to shreds.”

“What?”

“They’re going to act like you endorsed a brothel.” He announced bluntly. “And no matter how much you insist there’s no touching involved, people are always going to look at you differently. Your days of being the golden boy are over.”

Harry leaned forward, smirking at him. And in that moment, he didn’t look like anyone’s golden boy.

“That’s _exactly_ what I want.”

Draco’s breath caught, blinking as Harry leaned across the desk and held his hand out. He slowly slid his own hand over, shivering as Harry’s warm palm pressed against his and they shook on it. “It’s a deal, then.”

“Deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> Much like the veela in this fic, I can be convinced to do more for nice words. Leave comments!


End file.
